


Natural Fibers

by Churbooseanon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:17:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6150335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Churbooseanon/pseuds/Churbooseanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Wash wants when he gets home is to enjoy the company of his boyfriends. What he gets instead is to be the one to solve a fight that has been going on for days. If only both parties weren't being insanely aggressive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Natural Fibers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HappyFunBallXD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyFunBallXD/gifts).



> This piece has taken me a while to write but it’s finally done. Thank you happyfunballxd of Tumblr for being patient with me. This is their prize for my 1500 follower giveaway. They wanted Chuckington Ghost AU and we spent a long time talking about one point in particular that I wanted to explore. Hopefully they like it.

Homecoming, the sweetest thing imaginable after a week away from home. The whole process filled him with increasing joy, even as the drawn out process of flight and driving and lines tired his body. A week away for work always refreshed him. A week would always be long enough for him to grow to deeply miss his often quarrelling lovers. The chaos and annoyance would be gone for them all. Absence, they said, makes the heart grow fonder. And he was quite fond of the men he had left behind. 

The stairs up to their second floor apartment were not as daunting as they normally were after a long day, and even with two bags in hand he threw himself up the stairs two at a time. Already Wash could imagine the greeting when he was through the door. Ari and Skylar twining around his legs with joyful meows and chirps like only they could do. Tucker would be there just as fast with a hug, showering his face with sweet kisses escalating toward heated. And CHurch would hold back, preparing a mug of hot coffee in the Keurig, just the way Wash liked it. his kiss would be gentler, his hug more lasting, and fond words would be whispered breathlessly in his ear. When the older of his partners was sweet he could not be matched, he had a patience that could sometimes make Wash forget about pointless arguments and creative insults and the late night television marathons turned up too loud. 

Even calls every night did nothing to take away from how he longed to be home with them. Noisy fights and all. Still, Wash paused when he reached the landing, intent on making himself more presentable. His fingers carded through his short hair to get it suitably arranged, and his hands tugged at the fabric of the sweatshirt he wore. Of course in a few moments Tucker would have his hair mussed and Church would no doubt tug the sweatshirt into the ‘proper position.’ But it was still a little routine of his to make sure they would enjoy what they saw. Not that they ever really complained. 

Except Church. Church always complained. Not about that it was ever really about how Wash looked, and it definitely never happened until after their greeting. 

Pleased with himself, Wash finally fished the keys out of his pocket and opened the door to their apartment. 

“I’m home,” he called as the door opened, and he put his bags down for the anticipated race to greet him. 

“Put this on,” Tucker’s voice snapped as a green cotton blanket landed covering his head. 

“Hey jackass, that isn’t even remotely fucking fair,” Church shouted from somewhere to his left, the harshness of his voice punctuated by the disgruntled yowling of cats. Ari and Skylar were very laid back felines, for them to be making such a ruckus whatever fight his lovers were clearly having had to have been going on for a while. Which meant his welcome home greeting would have to wait until he had dealt with his quarreling loves. 

“What could possibly be worth fighting about when I just got home?” he sighed as he pulled the blanket from over his face. 

Whatever it was had to be major, Wash realized as he took in the state of the kitchen. Apparently he hadn’t been the only thing blanketed in the fight. A fluffy red throw had been tossed over the stove. Junior’s old baby blanket was draped over the microwave. A decorative dishtowel that their neighbor Mr. Flowers had knit for them was wrapped around the handles of the fridge with it’s mate run around the handle of the freezer. The Kitchen phone even had a knit cozy over it, complete with the uneven stitches which were to be expected from Wash’s earliest works. Nearly every appliance was covered with something, ranging from their plethora of towels and blankets to custom knit creations made for the shape of a thing, and even scarves twined around more awkward shapes. If that was the state of the kitchen, the living room and bedroom could only be worse. And the fight had to be of proportions Wash hadn’t seen in awhile if Tucker was covering the toaster of all things!

As Wash moved to pull the blanket off completely, he found himself shivering a bit. Their air conditioning unit had always been a finicky thing, but even it didn’t go so far into chill without deliberate prompting. Always more sensitive to temperature than Tucker, there really was nothing Wash could do but wrap the blanket around himself for warmth. Which was, of course, Tucker’s aim. 

Across the kitchen the lean man stood, arms folded over his chest, his whole body covered in a wool robe that looked ridiculously large on his wiry frame but made his rich brown skin look radiantly warm next to the cool teal color. His face was the picture of righteous rage, framed by the way his dreads hung around his cheeks, his normally warm brown eyes seemingly cold and empty. His foot tapped on the floor in irritation, or perhaps because bare feet had to be cold on the tile of the kitchen floor. His gaze brushed only briefly over Wash as he stepped fully into the kitchen and closed the apartment door behind him , but in the end Tucker’s attention moved back to the other presence in the room. 

Presence was the right word for him too. It could be difficult in the face of Tucker’s wrath to see Church for what Wash had come to know him as. When he was causing problems it was easier to remember that the mouthy man with a perpetual five o’clock shadow, black hair and pale skin was more than simply another roommate. It probably didn’t help that when he was upset Church got a touch more transparent, or that he’d curl his legs up toward his chest when he pouted, leaving him obviously floating motionless two feet above the floor. It was like high emotions took away some of the corporeal state that Church worked so hard to maintain. When the ghost had come to accept that he wasn’t going to scare them, he started trying to fit in with them, and having him disregard all his efforts gave Wash as much of an indication of how bad the fight was as the blankets did. 

A ghost ready to hide and an angry man in a robe burning with anger in an icy kitchen. Yeah, this was the last thing that he had wanted to come home to. But there was nothing Wash could do for it but get through the process as quickly as he could. Make peace and then he can be relaxed at home. After a week away he just wanted peace and love around him, not this sort of conflict. 

“Tucker,” Wash sighed as he rubbed at his cold arms, “turn the AC off and put on some clothes under that robe. You’re going to make me feel like I’m freezing just looking at you. Church… I need a cup of coffee. I’m going to the living room and when you’re ready, the two of you are going to tell me what is so fucking important as to ruin my homecoming.”

With that and the blanket wrapped around him, Wash moved into the living room. Normally he’d take the middle seat on the couch so Tucker wouldn’t stretch out and drape over him. But this time, this time Wash wanted to curl up in a way that made it harder for them to approach him. Coming home to this sort of environment was more than disappointing. What made up for it was the fact that the cats, sensing the tension momentarily broken, appeared from under the couch and behind a shelf, immediately jumping into his lap. Well, Ari claimed his lap and Skylar paced the arm behind him, rubbing his jaw against the back of Wash’s head. 

“At least someone is happy to see me,” Wash noted blandly, his fingers sneaking out of the blanket to scratch under Ari’s jaw. “I promise you both that once I’ve dealt with these two, I’ll give you treats. I have a feeling that you’ve had to put up with a lot of stupid shit lately.”

Unlike Freckles, who sometimes visited the apartment with Caboose, the cats were capable of seeing the ghost in the apartment. Apparently that bit of Egyptian lore about the powers of cats was sound, and they were more sensitive to Church’s moods than they were sometimes willing to display. Normally they avoided the ghost altogether, and when Church got more ethereal, the felines got a bit frantic. If Tucker and Church had been at each other for days, the cats needed some peace. Poor things. Just like Wash they wanted quiet and welcome, not this conflict. 

And, speaking of said conflict, there was a number of options for how it had come to be. If he had to put money on it, Wash would say Church either bought something Tucker thought was stupid and frivolous, or he’d broken something. With the latter in mind Wash cast his gaze around the living room to take stock of the place. As with the kitchen he found that every electronic present was covered. The remotes were slid into clean socks, the iPad that lived on the coffee table was tucked into a custom knit wrap, and Tucker’s phone was covered by a thin silk handkerchief that had little swords embroidered on it by Mr. Flowers. Still, as his eyes jumped from item to item he finally found a gap that was likely central to the whole disturbance he had come home to. A picture frame that normally stood below the TV, a metal one that held a picture of Tucker cradling his newborn son in his arms some years ago was missing. 

If Church had somehow managed to break that when he wasn’t thinking then… well, no wonder Tucker was furious. Wash had once asked his boyfriend why he had that one so prominently displayed rather than more recent images like he kept in his wallet, and Tucker had smiled and shaken his head. That was the day he’d gone from being reluctant at the whole idea of being a father and instead become more excited than he could ever believe. A changing point in his life as it were. The picture served to remind him that things could change, and definitely for the better. 

“I didn’t mean to do it,” Church’s voice came as a whisper at his side. 

When the ghost had floated in was beyond Wash, but he was holding a mug of coffee out over the couch, and Wash was appreciative of that. As he took his favorite cat mug from Church by it’s tail-handle he looked to the ghost and found shame plane on his face. Of course he wouldn’t have shown that to Tucker. Either of them admitting fault was almost beyond impossible once tempers flared. Especially since the ghost proved talented at holding grudges, still prone as he was to rant about his death almost eighty years ago. Wash had researched the incident not long after the ghost had entered their lives and figured Church had no small part in his own passing, but admitting he was wrong was hard. Which meant that right now, there was probably more than he was saying. 

Something Tucker no doubt had done to upset him in the first place. 

“I see he chose to ground you for it,” Wash noted with a gesture toward all the blankets. 

One of the first things Wash and Tucker had learned about living with a ghost was that the spirits of the dead couldn’t touch anything organic. Synthetics were all completely fair game for the wayward spirit, thus all the coverings. Throw a wool blanket over the television and not only could Church not watch it, he couldn’t even drag the thing off to make it better. In the early days where Church was a pest more than anything else, they had made covers for smaller things when they could and improvised when they couldn’t. Yet as time had passed and they had come to know the ghost better, they had put such things away except to serve as punishment. Something Tucker had trotted out in full force. It was a technique that worked because of how technologically inclined the spirit was, always up to date on new advances in phones, computers and anything else long before Tucker or Wash knew. 

“Dude, he even covered my computer,” Church whined as Wash wiggled the hand not holding the coffee out from under the blanket, making sure his hand was tucked into the sleeve of his acrylic sweatshirt. Immediately the ghost hovering over the back of the couch placed his hand on Wash’s, and Wash could feel the pressure of a hand that wasn’t really there through the fabric as the ghost focused on exerting pressure. Synthetic materials were the only way they could touch. Wash had even come to look forward to plastic wrap kisses when he got home. The ghost always found ways to touch when given the chance. Clearly the point of the blanket Tucker had given him. 

“That’s pretty far,” Wash agreed cautiously, turning his hand so he could hold the vague form of Church’s. 

“I haven’t met any orders for three days now!” 

For all that he was almost a century old, Church had adjusted well to modern life, as it were. Not long after discovering the internet thanks to Wash’s computer, and online gaming from the XBox, he’d decided to find some money to start his own small business. Granted it was one of farming money and rare items in MMOs, not to mention selling accounts which all had questionable legality, but it was something. Not needing to sleep or eat the ghost did more than enough business to pay for his gaming itself as well as contribute to the rent. If Tucker had covered up the computer Church had bought and built for himself, it meant the argument had more than escalated past reason. It would even explain why a highly tactile man like Tucker would switch to all natural fibers to avoid contact with Church. But over a picture? Yes, it was an important picture, but had it truly been that badly damaged? 

A better question might be why Tucker would go this far and not just cover the antique camera in the corner of the room that Church’s spirit was bound within. To do so would force the ghost to be contained only within the item, preventing him from doing anything but fuming quietly. That was how they’d found the camera at a garage sale last year. The camera had been in a leather case lined with sheepskin. Clearly the container had been nearly as valuable as the camera in that it was custom made. The woman had said that it belonged to an ancestor of hers who had died tragically and she wanted it to go to a good home. Tucker had bought it as a gift for Wash and the ghost had been a free nuisance since that day. 

“So,” Wash said, pitching his voice toward low and soothing, “why did you do it.” He gestured toward the spot the picture once stood in, ignoring the fact that he could see Tucker in the door to the living room just over Church’s shoulder. Though newly arrived and clearly intending to speak up, Wash shook his head slightly to keep Tucker silent and away. He had to know what it was that had motivated Church, intentionally or otherwise, and he’d be harder to get answers from than Tucker. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Church repeated emphatically. “I was watching a show and I got a little scared. I apparently shouted loud enough to wake up the asshole and you know what that does.”

“He has a name,” Wash reminded the ghost. Better not to address the long fought over question of what a ghost ever had to be scared of on TV. Right now he had to be the voice of reason, not the source of another fight. 

“Fine. Alright. Whatever. Tucker came in and started yelling at me to be quiet like he always does. He’s so fucking cranky when he wakes up. I didn’t mean to do it, and I got mad right back at him because he was being unreasonable to yell at me like that. I had fucking apologized.”

There had to be more to it than just that, but with both the ghost and Tucker silent, Wash was going to have to pry it out of one of them. 

“What… Church, what did he say before you threw whatever it was you threw?”

It had been a while since Church had gotten past the dickiest parts of haunting. No more hovering over their bed while they were together, no painting threats on the walls with the blue paint in the storage closet, no moving things around with the intention of making them seem a bit forgetful. At this point throwing things was sort of out of character for him.

“It was the TV remote,” Church explained, clearly attempting to distract Wash from his question. “And the thing wasn’t hurt. I’ve checked since. Works fine. I just hadn’t thought about where it might end up. I wasn’t looking at all. I promised him that I’d buy new glass for the frame and everything. The picture wasn’t even scratched or wrinkled or bent or anything. It was fine!”

“That isn’t the point, you asshat!” Tucker finally growled, drawing the ghost’s attention to him. “I keep telling you that. You broke something so important to me. That is totally not okay.”

“What isn’t okay is the fact that you’re going to leave me behind!” 

Wash flinched at the pain and anger mixed in the ghost’s voice. It gave the whole room a chill that went beyond the turned off AC’s power. It stung deep in Wash’s chest, almost doubling over as he held his coffee to his chest for warmth. Never before had Wash felt anything like this and his mind wanted to dwell on it, cling to fear and pain and grief indefinitely. Was this what Church was feeling? Could he do that to them? No, that would be wrong, more than wrong, and yet it punched into his heart and mind with such force that he didn’t know what to do. Except force himself on to the point that clearly caused Church so much distress. 

“Leaving?” Wash asked, turning his attention fully on the ghost who was just barely visible. “I just got back. I wouldn’t go again so soon, Church. You know that.”

“Yeah, well, Tucker got you two tickets for a secret romantic vacation and he said he’s going to leave me behind for being an insensitive jerk.”

How can he answer that just yet? Wash is left with his eyes wide in shock as he contemplates Church’s words. A romantic vacation with Tucker, that his boyfriend had been saving up for? How long had Tucker been working toward that surprise? That was so wonderful, his chest feels so warm and tight. When he looks to Tucker, though, he finds that those eyes are burning with fury over the secret being blown. Yet he turns his attention back toward the ghost, the cold and pain still fresh in his mind. Now he thought he might understand some of what had happened.

“Tucker said that because he was tired and upset at being woken. You said it yourself. He’s a grouch when he first wakes up,” he found himself telling the ghost, reaching with his sleeve for Church’s form and trying not to feel bad when he slips right through that form. “Besides, would you really mind the time alone? You’re always complaining that we’re always in your hair.”

Which was funny considering it was their apartment and Church was the one forced upon them in some ways. A quiet home he was in control of for a while might be good for the ghost. Yet as he watched Church he could see the man’s eyes pointedly staring at the hands folded in his lap. Then being left behind really was the concern of the ghost. Why should he be shocked? That was what Church had yelled about. 

“I haven’t been really alone before, not since you two bought my camera. Once you opened the box I was exposed to the outside world for more than ten minutes at a time. You guys haven’t left me alone before this, okay? Longest was ever when you guys slept in that one morning. Before that I was alone, sealed as it was, since not long after my death.”

Other than ranting about his actual death, Church didn’t speak much about his status as a ghost, and clearly there was a story here. When he glanced through Church he could see that even Tucker was leaning forward a bit, caught on the implication of learning more about their unorthodox partner. Secrets were Church’s main form of currency. To have that pay out now was… strange. 

“There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?” Wash found himself asking. And still Church didn’t meet his eyes. 

“You’re not the first owners of my camera who I got close to,” Church mumbled and Tucker started to walk forward to hear the quiet words. “About ten years after I passed my camera was sold to a girl in her late teens. She had the case made for my camera. For me. She wanted to be able to carry me around safely, not risk my spirit to damage of the camera. She took me everywhere. Her parents were wealthy and willing to let a girl have a camera. Pretty progressive for the forties, okay? I spent three years with her as a friend, confidant and advisor in some manners. And then… Well, she left.”

Clearly it was more complicated than that. 

“How did she leave?”

Still the man, the ghost, wouldn’t look at him. His hands were what he looked at. Maybe even looked through. If only Church was a normal man, if only Wash could take his hand to comfort him. But he couldn’t. He stayed motionless, curled around his coffee, waiting for more. 

“Church, how?” Tucker asked, finally joining Wash on the other side of the couch. 

“There was a trip. She packed me up in the case and told me that when we got onto the train she’d open it up and we could talk and look at the countryside but… But she never did. The next thing I experienced was the lady who sold me opening me up in an attic. The house was the same, I knew it. The girl used to take me up there to take pictures of birds in an old walnut tree in the yard. But then I found out what year it was. She’d forgotten me, or left me behind or…”

“Died,” Tucker provided, voice soft. “And that’s why you got upset. Because you thought I was going to do the same to you.”

“Both of you!” Church snapped immediately. “You could go off and the plane could crash or something. Then back I go into the box, alone and going crazy because there’s only fucking darkness and my own devices. Device. Whatever. How would you like to be locked in a box for seventy years, not knowing what happened to someone who meant a lot to you?”

Through the ghostly form Wash could see a softening of the hardness in Tucker’s eyes. Yeah, this went a lot deeper than Tucker had ever thought. A single wrong choice of words, not even entirely malicious, had lead to days of fighting because Church thought he was going to lose them. If Wash had only known, been told when Tucker called them, he could have smoothed it over far sooner. 

“We don’t leave you like that,” Wash promised easily. “You’ll of course come with us on whatever trip Tucker has planned. I’m sorry to say that to carry the camera safely we’ll have to put you in the case, but we’ll leave you under one of our seats so you’re not far away.”

“And we can put a phone in there too, on airplane mode, so you will have something to do for the flight, and check the time,” Tucker quickly offered as well. 

“Pack only synthetic fibers, but the sheets wherever we go will probably be cotton, sorry about that,” Wash added. “We’ll have to bring film of course, so the TSA people don’t think we’re being really terrible. Slip the phone in after, but you can’t pop out while we’re waiting because people will freak.”

“Wait, what?” Church finally asked, shocked as he looked between them. Wash had to smile and he offered his hand as the ghost’s form seemed to get a little more solid. 

“We’ll take you everywhere. Maybe get a synthetic bag to carry your camera around in general so you can pop out, transparent of course, and see things with us,” Tucker continued. “A vacation for the three of us. We can’t take pictures of you, but we can take them for you, so you’ll always remember the time we had together. Promise. It’s… I’m sorry about the whole angry thing. I didn’t understand why you were so upset. But you do owe me a new picture frame and you can’t just throw things in the direction of the TV when you’re angry. Don’t throw things at all, okay?”

“That’s really it?” Church demanded. “It can’t be this simple. After everything these last few days it can’t be that fucking simple!”

“Can’t it?” Wash asked. 

Because he got it, really he did. Church and Tucker spent days working each other up over something Tucker didn’t understand and Church didn’t want to talk about. It could take someone who wasn’t there to break up fights that worked themselves up to such a level that it was all that mattered. Now though, with his hand offered, he felt Church’s touch through the fabric again. Ari protested with a little mewl as he leaned forward to wrap his fingers around Church’s hand, and Skylar hissed as he hopped off the couch. 

“We told you when you finally started to calm down that you weren’t getting rid of us that easily, Church. Did you think that was going to change so soon?” 

“People leave,” the ghost was quick to point out. “Pretty sure I can say that seeing as I’m way fucking older than you and more…”

“Don’t say more experienced,” Wash cut him off easily. “Because you spent most of that time, well… Anyway, we can’t deal with those concerns if we don’t know they exist Church. Every now and then you have to tell us what’s bothering you.”

“But you guys talk too much already,” the ghost whined, and that brought a chuckle to Tucker’s lips. 

“Perhaps,” Wash allowed as he pulled away from the ghost and his human boyfriend. “Now, what say Tucker and I lift code red here?”

With that he reached for the iPad and pulled it free of the cozie before holding it out to the ghost. Church’s smile as he took it in hand was a warm one, and it didn’t fade as he put the device aside. 

“I’m going to pop that pan of stuffed shells you have out of the freezer and make dinner for you guys tonight. How’s that sound?”

“Thank god,” Tucker laughed as Wash rose to take coverings off of remotes and other ghost-friendly toys in the living room. “I’ve been fucking bored with mac and cheese.”

“Maybe if you’d talked to him like a reasonable boyfriend instead of just assuming he was wrong, it might have gone better for your stomach. If you age only takeout, I’m going to be upset,” Wash warned Tucker as he started to fold up blankets to put back into the linen closet. “Would you uncover Church’s computer?”

The other man saluted before leaving the room. That left Wash alone in the room with Church and a disgruntled Ari who had lost a lap to sit in. His attention, though, was on carefully uncovering the television. The blanket had managed to table itself with the mess of cords behind the screen and Wash found himself focused on untangling until arms wrapped around his torso. When he looked down he could see the arms that weren’t really there around him, and pressed his arm against where Church’s hands overlapped. If he closed his eyes and focused he could almost feel a heartbeat against his skin. Wishful thinking but still he liked to do it. Experience what he wished he could. 

“You really mean it? That you’re not going?”

“Not a chance,” Wash replied to the words whispered softly, nervously in his ear. “We’ll be here for you, Church. Just give us a chance, let us know that we’re failing you or when we do something right. I mean, look at how dedicated to his son Tucker is. That won’t change for you just because you’re not alive.”

“Sometimes… Sometimes I think I could come to love you idiots,” that voice said in his ear, like sharing some deep, dark secret. 

“Well, that is the goal, Leonard. So if that’s what you think is happening, don’t hold back. We’re not going anywhere, you’re not going anywhere, and you’re stuck with us for the rest of our natural lives. Who knows, maybe even beyond.”

“Geez, let’s not go that far,” Church chuckled, and Wash let himself imagine a puff of air across the back of his neck, brushing through his hair. “Maybe I’ll get bored.”

“Maybe,” Wash let himself laugh. “Maybe. But I won’t put money on it. Not yet.”


End file.
